


My (almost) lover's nasty sister

by Anonymous



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drugs, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:25:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4842350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You knocked up my brother you are marrying him! Mummy would have a fit if she were to find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	My (almost) lover's nasty sister

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally post in response to a prompt on the meme. 
> 
> Also I apologize in advance for any Americanisms.

"You knocked up my brother you are marryin' 'im! Mummy would 'ave a fit if she were to find out!"

"Alright Harry, you've had enough," John said, prying the glass from her hand. 

Sherlock stood frozen, completely uncertain of what to do in this situation. 

"No, no, no," Harry said loudly, while John paid the bartender. "'E's hidin' it under those ugly jumpers, but I can see how much weight 'e's put on."

Sherlock was going to point out the obvious flaws in her drunken logic: 1. They were both men, 2. They had not engaged in any activity that could lead to John being in family way, and 3. John and Harry's "Mummy" had been dead for years. 

Before Sherlock could say any of this, Harry climbed on top of the bar. 

"You got my brother pregnant. Are you goin' t' do right by him?" She shouted so that everyone around them could hear. 

Sherlock nodded dumbly. The bartender handed John a set of keys. 

"Come on, Harry," John said, and she hopped off of the bar. 

"Thanks mate," John said to the bartender. Dave or Dan or Damien or something -he'd deleted the name on hearing it- was an old friend of John's. He'd called them when Harry Watson had started to make a scene in Club Name Also Deleted. 

Sherlock caught Harry to keep her from falling. Sherlock glared at the bartender. He wanted to say that a real friend would not would not have let Harry get this drunk in the first place. 

She staggered over to John, and threw her arms around him. 

"Awe," she said, rubbing her hand over John's stomach. "What am I havin'? A niece or a nephew?"

John turned red with embarrassment. John was embarrassed by Harry behavior. How could Sherlock get her to stop?

There had to be had to be something he could do, aside from keeping Harry upright as they left for the car park. 

Why couldn't he figure this out? 

Harry laughed. "'E was always the pudgiest little boy." 

"What are you driving these days, Harry?" John asked. 

Sherlock could help with that. Based mud on her shoes and. . .

"We're looking for some sort of BMW," John said fingering the key fob. 

"E's so very smart," Harry said leaning into Sherlock as they stumbled along. 

John pushed the panic button on the key fob. 

"You'd never know 'e had special edu-mu-cational needs," Harry said. 

John hit the panic button again this time a nearby sedan began honking. He silenced it. 

"'E couldn't read properly 'till 'e was twelve," Harry said. 

"This is us then," John said opening the rear door. Harry climbed in, and Sherlock slid in after her. 

"Mummy sued the school over 'im," Harry said, "an' now 'e's a doctor."

John said nothing as he started the engine, and eased out of the parking space. 

"An' the girls," Harry said. "'E never even talked to one 'till Uni. Then suddeny 'e's got all these girlfriends. At leas' tha's what 'e told mummy. Ne'er brought one of 'em home."

I wonder why, thought Sherlock. 

"Now I've met you, it makes sense," Harry said. "E' needn't of hid it from me."

The drive to Harry's house seemed to take forever. 

Sherlock quietly plotted a murder between, "E' always takes good care of me," and, "I bet 'e's wild in bed. Three Contents Watson they call 'im. Must've done something kinky t' get that name."

Couldn't she see how humiliated her brother was by her words? Sherlock could detect his friend's discomfort, just by the way he drove. 

By the time they reached their destination, Harry had nodded off. John stepped, and opened the door for his sister. 

"Help me get her inside," John said, and Sherlock scrambled to her side of the vehicle. 

With John on her left and Sherlock on her right, they awkwardly maneuvered Harry Watson into her house. 

It was a large empty building, lavishly decorated. Everything was neat and tidy, made so by regular maid service. All indications were that this was the home of a successful, but divorced business woman. No obvious indications that she was a functional alcoholic, except for the inebriated woman between them. 

Their progress was hindered when she roused slightly and said, "No cake at the wedding. It makes you fat." She turned to Sherlock and said, "'e had to go on a diet to get in the army." 

They finally dumped Harry into her bed. John removed her shoes and tossed a blanket over her. 

"Thanks," he said to Sherlock. "You didn't have to. . ." He glanced over at Harry who had mercifully gone quite. 

"I think, maybe, I'd better stay here for the night," John said. 

Sherlock found himself alone in a cab bound for Baker St. He was glad they lived so far from Harriet Watson, less chance of running into her by accident that way. 

All the way home him brain kept replaying his options. What to do about tonight?

Delete tonight? Yes, that made sense, but he had promised to do right by John. Easy as it would be to forget the whole encounter with Harry, it didn't seem right. 

Marry John? Tempting but, illogical. John insisted he was straight, and Harriet would probably wreck the ceremony anyway.

Have a deep and meaningful discussion when John came home in the morning? Not his strength. 

Threaten Harry? Make her promise not to drink anymore? She'd promised John that before. Sherlock doubted he'd have better luck.

Even if an apology could be extorted from Harry, she couldn't unsay what had been said.

Remember to buy milk? It was a start. 

These things were still ruining through his mind as he climbed the stairs. 

God, he just wanted this horrible night to be over. 

Sherlock opened his violin case, and lifted the instrument. Then he pulled open the secret compartment that contained his stash. 

 

The clock on his nightstand showed 3:02 AM. Mycroft Holmes groggily the caller ID: Sherlock. 

He answered, the tell tell sound rushing water was in the background. 

"Sherlock," he sighed, "What have I told you about calling me from the toilet?"

Mycroft prepared himself for a witty sarcastic reply, wondering what trouble his brother had gotten himself into this time. 

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said. "About the drugs. About everything."


End file.
